Timid Hare | Page 8

not easy to act friendly.
"For the child's sake, I must not show my dislike," she thought quickly.
So she smiled, and looking at the rushes, said, "These are good, very
good. I can use them for my mat."
She turned to her work while The Stone stood silent, watching her.
Then, suddenly, the old squaw bent over her and said, "Sweet Grass,
listen to me. I sent the child of the Mandans to you this morning. She is
bad--lazy--very lazy. Your father gave her into my keeping and I will

train her, though it is hard. No one else would be patient with her
wicked, lying ways. No one!"
The Stone stopped as suddenly as she had begun. She hoped that she
had succeeded in making Sweet Grass believe that the little captive was
as bad as she had said.
"Why do you talk? I do not care to listen to you," said the young girl,
looking up into the ugly face bending over her. Then she went on with
her weaving as though she were alone. There was nothing left for The
Stone but to go on her way, muttering.
"After this," she promised herself, "Timid Hare shall go little from my
sight. I need her to do my bidding and save my steps. She must not be
taken from me through any foolish fancy that Sweet Grass may have
taken for her."

THE HAPPY DAY
That evening the chief, Bent Horn, sat by his fireside, smoking with his
friends. Close beside him was his handsome son. On the women's side
of the lodge Sweet Grass and her mother squatted, listening to the
stories of the men. As the hours passed by, the visitors rose one by one
and went home for the night's sleep. When the last one had gone Sweet
Grass got up from her place and held out to her father the mat she had
been making for him. A pretty picture had been woven into the rushes;
it had taken all the young girl's skill to do it.
"For you, my father," said Sweet Grass.
The chief smiled. He was proud of his young son who gave promise of
becoming a fine hunter. But he was also proud of this one daughter. He
loved her so dearly that he could not bear to say, No, to anything she
might ask of him.
"My father," now said Sweet Grass, "I wish to speak to you of the child
Timid Hare whom you gave into the keeping of The Stone."

The chief scowled. "That pale-faced daughter of the cowardly Mandans?
She may thank you that she still lives," he said sternly.
"But I have seen her and talked with her, my father, and she has won
my heart. I want her to live with me and serve me. Will you let it be
so?"
There was no answer.
"And she no longer makes one think of the pale-faced Mandans. Her
skin is now dark with paint so that she looks even as we do." The voice
of Sweet Grass was tender with pleading.
"I saw her at the spring one day," broke in young Antelope. "The
hump-back, Black Bull, had just left her. Her eyes spoke fright, but also
a good temper. Let my sister have her wish."
The chief turned to his wife. In matters of the household the Indian
woman generally has her will.
"Let the child come and serve Sweet Grass," said the squaw who had a
noble face and must once have been as beautiful as her daughter.
"You shall have your wish." Bent Horn spoke as though not wholly
pleased; but when he saw the delight his words gave Sweet Grass, his
face showed more kindness than his voice.
Two days afterwards a messenger from Bent Horn appeared in The
Stone's doorway.
"I bring you word from our chief," he told her. "The captive, Timid
Hare, is to return with me. She will serve the maiden Sweet Grass."
The Stone's ugly eyes filled with anger. Yet she did not dare refuse the
command of the chief.
"Go," she said turning to Timid Hare, who was busy at one side of the
lodge pounding wild rice into flour. "Go, you cowardly
good-for-nothing. Let the chief discover what I have borne."

Timid Hare was almost overcome with delight. To serve the beautiful
maiden, Sweet Grass! It seemed too good to be true.
Yet it must be true, for The Stone, with uplifted arms, was fairly
driving her from the lodge as she would a troublesome mosquito.
As the little girl passed through the doorway she met Black Bull
entering, with Smoke at his heels. Over the youth's eyes swept a cloud
of fear at the unusual brightness in the little girl's face. He felt instantly